


...And Thy Father

by mattzerella_sticks



Series: Family Holidays [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Castiel Can't Cook, Cute Castiel, Cute Dean Winchester, Cute Jack, Dead John Winchester, Dean and Cas are Jack's parents, Dean is a Softie, Dean is a Sweetheart, Father's Day, Feels, Firefighter John Winchester, Flashbacks, Fluff, Lawyer Castiel, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Memories, Old Married Couple, Scared Dean, cas is a sweetheart, graveyards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 19:59:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14961200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Father's Day has always been a hard time for Dean. A reminder that someone very important to him is no longer there. But it gets easier: first with the help of Cas and then by celebrating the day alongside their son Jack. But an early morning mistake leads to making this Father's Day one of the best Dean's ever experienced.Sequel to "Honor Thy Mother"





	...And Thy Father

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! So glad to be posting this ON Father's Day and not the day after. Hope you all enjoy and feel lots of feelings!

            Dean awoke to the powerful stench of char, blinking out of unconsciousness at a dizzying speed. He groped across the sheets for his husband, only to find the space next to him empty. Shooting forward, he throws himself from the bed, not even bothering with his usual robe and slippers before slamming out of his bedroom and into the hall. Dean flings Jack’s door open, only to find his son in the same state as his father. Pacing backwards out from the room, Dean feels his heart race. He scurries further in, eyes frantic and searching.

            A small plume of smoke escapes from the kitchen, and Dean hounds it towards the source. The names of his husband and son are lodged in his throat, only a small sound eking out as he turns the corner onto slippery linoleum.

            Cas and Jack guiltily stare, wide-eyed as Dean practically slides in in his haste.

            “Dean!” Cas starts, abandoning the ruined pan and moving towards his shaking husband, “Dean, what’s wrong! You weren’t supposed to be –“

            “Smoke,” Dean whispers, throat raw and scratchy, “I smelt…” He looks towards the stove, where the remains of breakfast lie: shriveled and blackened, all taste sucked out leaving it dry.

            “’M sorry, daddy,” Jack shuffles forward, “Wanted to make breakfast… but me ‘n’ papa made it icky.”

            “What?”

            “Um…” Castiel looks down, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, “Happy Father’s Day?”

            Dean glances between his husband and son, then between them at the still smoking bacon. The first chuckle is low and watery, a slight rumble of rocks cascading down a mountainside from far away. But the closer they get towards the bottom the louder they become, and so does Dean’s laughter. He tries wiping away at tears that started trailing down his cheeks, but at some point in his mania Cas has taken hold of both his wrist.

            “Dean?”

            “You,” Dean chokes out, “You can’t cook to save your fu… fudging _life_.” He throws himself at Cas, squeezing tight and still laughing.

            “I’m sorry,” Cas whispers, “I thought bacon would be easy… I’ve seen you do it a thousand times… I should have noticed when it was ruined and I – I thought maybe you’d be asleep enough you wouldn’t notice the smell and… it’s just been a very careless morning for me.”

            “You’re okay,” Dean says, mouthing at Cas’s neck, “Both of you.” He pulls away, gripping at Cas’s shoulders, “Please, though, if you want to do something nice… avoid using the stove.” Dean glances down at Jack, smiling, “That means you too.”

            “Sorry, daddy,” Jack repeats, “We wanted to give you special breakfast.”

            “Cereal can be just as special,” Dean tells him, “Now come here.” He picks the little boy up, peppering his face with kisses until Jack starts giggling – earlier melancholy erased. Dean presses one final kiss to Jack’s crown, gazing up at Cas from over their son’s head.

            “Now,” Dean starts, “Why don’t you and Pa clean up while _I_ make some pancakes… it’s not like _I’m_ the only father in this house.”

            “But you’re the only one who cooks.”

            “For good reason.”

            Cas _huffs_ but doesn’t say anything further. Instead, he grabs for Jack and together they try to scrape the bacon off the pan. Dean watches them, the small smile blossoming into something greater the longer he stares. The two of them help push memories of fire and smoke and _screaming_ back into the depths of his subconscious. They don’t fall down into the darkness they’re used to, however hovering just below the surface as their wont to do on days like these.

            Where the hole in his family is noticeable. 

* * *

 

            “Damn that was probably the worst thing you could have done today.”

            Cas sighs, leaning against the kitchen counter as he watches Dean and Jack play together out in the backyard. Jack rides around in his little plastic car, with Dean chasing him loudly, exaggerating every movement and fall.

            “I know, Sam,” Cas grumbles, rubbing at his temple, “Thankfully your brother has chosen yet again to forgive my stupidity.”

            “You’re not stupid,” Sam starts, “You’re just a really bad cook. Luckily Dean is a really _good_ cook so… you balance each other out.”

            Cas huffs a laugh, “Your logic seems without flaw.”

            “Of course it is,” Sam chuckles, “Wouldn’t be the youngest partner at our firm if it _was_ flawed.”

            “I thought you got that job because of your hair,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because you work on weekends and holidays – which is _why_ you called me in the first place.”

            “If I had anything else to do I would, Cas,” Sam says, “But Eileen and the kids locked me in the study until their ‘surprise’ was ready, and I ran out of podcasts to listen to. It was either start research on our case or _die_.”

            “Well, I hope I was of _some_ help,” Cas says, “I would have been more useful had I been like you and _brought my work home on the weekends_. But, alas, that is why you are partner and I am still just a lowly attorney.”

            “Please, like I don’t know you’ve turned them down three time already –“ he drops off. Cas waits a beat, brow raised in anticipation. Sam returns, “Okay, they’re ready for me. Are you going to visit him today?”

            “We are, after lunch.”

            “Alright, let me know how he is after. I’d come with but –“

            “It’s alright Sam,” Cas smiles, “I’ll call. Go have fun with your family.”

            “Thanks.” The line cuts off after that, Cas staring at the phone as Sam’s name slowly fades revealing his home screen underneath. Dean and Jack looked adorable in their Halloween costumes – Batman and Robin. Cas was barred from the photo since he’d nixed the Catwoman costume and instead dressed as Flash. Dean had denounced Cas’s ‘non-canonical’ pairing but… well, that night led to a newfound appreciation for the fastest man alive.

            “Hey,” Dean startles him out of his thoughts, “You good there?” Jack is in his arms, sweaty from all the fun.

            “Yeah, yeah,” Cas smiles, pressing kisses to both their cheeks, “Just Sam asking for some help with work.”

            “Work?” Dean smirks, “He does know it’s the weekend right… and _Father’s Day_?”

            “I informed him of this, yes.”

            Dean sighs, shaking his head, “That kid is obsessed with work.”

            “That he may be,” Cas starts, “But if he weren’t, I do believe we never would have met?”

            “Hmm… you got a point,” Dean admits, “But I’m sure we would have found each other even without his help.”

            “Even so, I wouldn’t dream of taking the chance,” Cas tells him, “Go. Give Jack a bath, I’ll make some sandwiches.”

            “Are you sure -?”

            “ _Sandwiches_ , Dean,” Cas repeats, squinting, “With cold cuts. Even _I_ can handle that.”

            “Alright, alright…” Dean presses a final kiss to Cas’s cheek before heading over to the bathroom with Jack. He watches him babble sweet nothings into Jack’s ear, tittering together all the while.

            ‘ _And it’ll be the best damn sandwich every_ ,’ Cas promises, getting the ingredients together, ‘ _Besides… you’ll need the strength_.’ 

* * *

 

            Dean strangles the bottle in his grip, the neck nearly cracking under the intense pressure. His breaths are shallow, in time to the pulsing beat of whatever top 40 song Cas puts on whenever he drives. He’d grumble at him to change the channel to some real music, but the happy, off-key singing from Jack in the back seat halts him. Besides, days like these control of the radio is given over to Cas.

            The other man kills the engine, cutting the singer off mid-word. “Dean?” Cas asks, “Are you –“

            “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, not meeting his husband’s eyes, “Please don’t… don’t ask me that question.”

            Cas nods, turning to look back at their son. “I’m going to bring Jack to talk to Kelly…” he glances at him, “Take as much time as you need.” Dean keeps his gaze locked in front of him as Cas moves about, picking their son up and walking away from the Impala and into the sea of tombstones.

            Dean takes a deep breath, brain going through the mantras his therapist taught him years ago, taking him away from the ledge and closer back to solid ground. It’s another minute or two before he actually works up the nerve to step out of the car and begin the trek to the grave.

_John Winchester_

_Dearly Beloved_

_Went Out in a Blaze of Glory_

            He always snorts, reading the damned thing. John joked that he’d want it written there no matter what, figuring it’ll be a good story when they say he passed in his sleep or from a heart attack. No one figured it’d take to reality.

            But so is the life of a firefighter.

            “Hey Dad,” Dean croaks out, holding the bottle of Jack a loft, “Brought you your favorite.” Some people bring flowers. Winchesters bring alcohol. ‘ _Priorities_ …’ Dean thinks, eyeing the five-dollar bottle John would always swipe up near the end of every month from the local booze-hole.

            “Happy Father’s Day,” he continues, “I know it’s… it’s been awhile. S’not like I’ve forgotten you… s’pretty hard to do that, really. Here… why don’t we start with a drink?” Dean screws open the top and starts draining the bottle, letting the Jack waterfall onto the grass. Seeping into the dirt below. He watches the brown liquid cascade down gathering his thoughts until his time is cut short by the last drop.

            “Glad you always like the cheap stuff, Dad,” Dean snickers, “Would have been harder if you actually had _taste_.” He sets the bottle down, walking around until his back is to the gray slab. Dean slides down, until he’s leaning against it.

            “Easier doin’ it this way,” Dean starts back up again, “It’s been how many years, and I still feel like you’re lookin’ right at me. And it’s not how Sammy sees you: smiling, wishing him good luck on his test because he wouldn’t see you in the morning – still’d be on duty. Nah… I picture you hauling my _stupid_ ass out of that burning warehouse because the idiots I hung around with didn’t think to look before lighting up. Tossing me off to Bobby before the beams collapsed and – and you were… there was so much fire…” He squeezes his wrist, breathing in and out slowly.

            “Cas tried to make me breakfast today,” Dean says, shakily, “Usually I don’t get into the heavy stuff so early but he… he had an accident and it just brought all those memories back up to the surface. Don’t normally start thinkin’ of you until the drive over… but it gave me a terrible scare. Couldn’t find him _or_ Jack… felt like I was about to have a heart attack. Don’t know what I would have done if either of them were in that kind of a situation…”

            “I can never thank you enough, y’know? If you didn’t pull me out… I’d never have them in my life. They mean so much to me I… in that moment, I was ready to do anything to get them out – no matter what happened to me. It was just some burnt bacon but to me it was life or death. And I… I think I understand why you did it. Not like – not like I _didn’t_ before but, like… on a deeper level. Feeling what you must have felt when you saw me that night. Would have done… would do _anything_ to keep ‘em safe. Knowing this ain’t gonna make me all better but… step in the right direction ‘n all that. Sure Missouri’d love to hear it when I see her next week.”

            “I still wish you could have met them. Cas treats me right and Jack is… Jack’s so special. Reminds me of Sammy some times. Know he’s not gonna be making the same dumbass mistakes I did growing up.”

            He waits a beat. A slight breeze slips across his cheek, and a slight smile breaks across Dean’s lips.

            “I know it’s still gonna be hard – I’ve seen teenagers. But I’ll be here to see him grow up. Years down the line, no matter how many birthdays, Christmases, or Father’s Days I celebrate – you’ll still have given me the best gift I ever could have gotten: a second chance. …Love you, Dad.”

            Pulling himself away takes an eternity, and by the time he makes it back to the car, Cas is sitting on the hood of it with Jack. Their little boy is curled up on his lap, drooling slightly onto his shirt. Dean slides himself next to Cas and lets his head fall onto the other’s shoulder.

            “Hey,” Cas starts, “How’re you feeling?”

            “Like I’ve been driving on highways all night without stopping for gas.”

            “Y’know you could have just said ‘empty’ or ‘tired’ right?”

            Dean smiles, “But how could I capture the entirety of what I was feeling with just those two words?” Cas blinks at him before sighing in faux annoyance. He curls the one arm not supporting Jack around Dean’s shoulders and pulls him closer.

            “It was just my luck to fall for a man who can’t speak straight.”

            “For the record,” Dean says, “There’s nothing straight about falling in love with a man.”

            “Touché.”

            “I’m so glad you put up with me,” Dean sighs, squeezing Cas’s thigh.

            “I don’t put up with you, Dean,” Cas says, “I love you… and I always will.”

            “That’s so –“

            “As long as you don’t become ugly.”

            “…sweet,” Dean glares at his smirking husband, “Just my luck to fall for a man who knows _just_ how to ruin a moment.”

            “Admit it,” Cas chuckles, “That’s _why_ you fell for me.”

            “It’s a perk,” Dean shrugs, “But really I was in it for the money. You think I could have afforded our house on a _teacher’s_ salary?”

            “You villain!” Cas gasps, “Saying that our marriage is nothing more than a sham? What will our son think? Our families? Our _neighbors_ – no… the _PTA?_ ” Dean stifles his guffaws into Cas’s shoulder, “I don’t think I can face Linda the next time I come to help you out at one of your school’s bake sales. The wound is too strong… someone would notice – “

            “Alright mister dramatic, that’s enough,” Dean stops him, “Get any louder and we’ll have a cranky kid to deal with on the ride home.”

            “Fine,” Cas slides off the Impala, Dean following, “But to make up for this confession, you’ll be putting in a lot of work when we get home. You still haven’t given me _my_ Father’s Day gift.”

            “Why do you think I wanna get home so fast?” Dean smirks, laughing at the blush that dusts itself across Cas’s tanned cheeks. He makes quick work of Jack’s seat, and soon enough the family is driving out of the cemetery and back home.

            Dean glances in the rearview mirror at Jack, snoring away, lost to slumber, before shifting over to gaze at his husband. Something creeps up his heart and forces his cheeks to stretch until they hurt.

            “What?” Cas asks, noting Dean’s strange expression, “Did you put something on my face when I wasn’t looking?”

            “No,” Dean starts, reaching for Cas’s hand across the divide, twining their fingers together, “Just… I’m really lucky. For you… for Jack… for my dad, all those years ago.”

            “I thank him every day,” Cas admits, pressing a kiss to Dean’s hand, “And every night that he saved you. I know what a world without Dean Winchester looks like, and it is a sad, depressing thing filled with nothing but grey. I couldn’t imagine that being the norm.”

            “You sap,” Dean mumbles, “And you think the way _I_ talk is confusing…”

            “Less talking then,” Cas smirks, “More _do_.” He wiggles his eyebrows in a way that sends Dean into a silent fit.

            “You’re an idiot.”

            “But I’m _your_ idiot.”

            “Yeah,” Dean says, “yeah, you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy? Let me know how by dropping a kudos and a comment!


End file.
